


Darkest Before the Dawn

by FuryRed



Series: Heart and Soul [3]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Has Feelings, Erik has Issues, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/pseuds/FuryRed
Summary: Erik always knew that being in a relationship with Charles was never going to be easy, he just didn’t realise quitehowdifficult it would be, or how his own tendency for self-sabotage might make him run the risk of losing the most important person in his life…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkoptics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkoptics/gifts).



It is a cool Sunday morning when Erik awakens to a characteristically bleak British day. As he opens his eyes and tilts his gaze towards the window Erik sees that, through the open curtains, there is a grey, cloudy sky outside, most likely mirroring a sheen of early-morning frost upon the ground. It’s the sort of day that would be best remedied by staying indoors, drinking copious amounts of tea, and watching bad television, but unfortunately for Erik he already has something else planned…

As Erik stares out of the window, beside him there is abruptly the noise of a short, muffled laugh, and Erik tilts his head to regard the sight of Charles next to him, sound asleep but smiling softly. Charles shifts where he lays on his stomach, snuggled into Erik’s side with one arm strewn across Erik’s waist, and whatever amusing dreams Charles is having are clearly evident by the relaxed expression on his face, and Erik finds he envies Charles’ powers of telepathy as he would love to know what it is that makes Charles laugh in his sleep so often.

It would be nice to stay there, to watch the steadily rising sun illuminate every golden-brown freckle on Charles’ skin, to allow Charles to linger in his happy dream-state a bit longer, but though Charles may have a rather relaxed attitude to timekeeping, Erik’s meticulous nature means he cannot accept the idea of missing a planned appointment.

“Charles…” Erik says gently. “Charles, come on- we have to get up”.

Charles doesn’t stir, other than to emit a further soft chuckle, and Erik isn’t exactly unsurprised by Charles’ reluctance to awaken.

It is approaching the end of term at the university Charles and Erik attend, and as such both of them find themselves embroiled in a series of challenging exams. Charles is only in his first year compared to Erik who is finishing his third, but when it comes to studying Charles is nothing but dedicated, meaning he has spent numerous long nights at the university library going through his revision.

The previous evening, Erik had managed to tear Charles away from the library for once, but the night still ended with Charles sat at the desk in his room engrossed in one of his many weighty textbooks. Eventually Erik had retired to bed after Charles had insisted he would join him in a minute, but when Erik had awoken at three in the morning he had opened his eyes to find Charles, still at his desk, slumped over the surface with face pressed into the pages of his book, sound asleep. Charles’ mumbled utterances as Erik had pulled him away from his chair had still somehow been words of protest, like Charles felt like he hadn’t yet studied enough, but Erik disagreed, and had practically manhandled Charles into bed to ensure he got some rest.

As Erik lies there the following morning he almost feels guilty at having to wake Charles up, especially when he knows Charles could do with time to sleep and recover, but he also realises that Charles would be unhappy if Erik allowed him to sleep in and miss their usual rugby game, and that knowledge is what makes Erik reach over to gently grasp Charles’ shoulder, squeezing lightly as he tries to rouse him.

“Charles…” Erik says more firmly, leaning over to press a brief kiss to Charles’ cheek and earning himself a sleepy murmur in response. “Charles, come on, Liebling- it’s time to wake up”.

“Buh”, Charles replies, turning to press his face further into the pillow as Erik smiles and draws his mouth along the line of Charles’ cheekbone and over to his ear.

“Charles, don’t make me push you out of bed…”

“Wuh?”

“I will”.

“Nuh-uh”.

Erik laughs quietly, trailing his fingertips down the curve of Charles’ spine over his t-shirt and watching Charles shiver with each gentle caress. Charles is waking now, Erik can tell- the feeling of Charles’ mind slowly opening is fond and familiar, like a flower slowly coming into bloom. Erik feels Charles’ presence, the soft kiss of greeting as his mind presses to Erik’s for a moment, but in spite of the obvious signs of Charles’ gradually-waking state, he still does not move or even attempt to open his eyes.

“I guess I’m going without you, then…” Erik says eventually, adding a fake sigh for good measure as he withdraws from Charles and pulls back the bedsheets that cover the both of them.

Instantly Charles stirs, his dazed mumbling becoming louder as he groans and wriggles on the mattress, drawing closer to Erik and the warmth of his body whilst squeezing his arm more firmly around Erik’s waist. When Erik had put Charles to bed last night he had stripped Charles’ trousers off, meaning Charles now lies before Erik in blue patterned boxer shorts that cling to the round curve of his buttocks. Erik can’t help but feel a predictable surge of arousal at the sight, though he tries very hard to ignore the feeling even as the corner of Charles’ mouth draws up in a smirk and he rocks his hips from side to side suggestively.

“Charles…” Erik scolds lightly. “There’s no time for that”.

“I’m not doing anything…” Charles murmurs, even as Erik begins to feel words and thoughts and feelings pressed into his mind like gentle suggestion- an image of the two of them curled up in bed together with limbs entwined beneath the sheets, their mouths and minds pressed together as their bodies shake apart, a sense of joy and contentment that feels like happiness, like home.

“Charles…” Erik says again, stroking his fingers through Charles’ unruly mop of hair. Charles has stilled again now, lying prone against the mattress as Erik leans closer, intending to whisper the directive to rise in Charles’ ear, or perhaps to kiss him once more. But as soon as Erik is close enough Charles immediately springs into action and his hand comes up and pushes firmly against Erik’s bare chest- nudging Erik to lie back against the mattress before Charles swiftly shifts over and climbs on top. He drapes himself over Erik’s body like a warm, comforting blanket and snuggles close to press his face into Erik’s neck, running both hands through Erik’s hair as he sighs contentedly and murmurs: “Five more minutes…”

Erik knows he should say no, knows he should insist they both get up and start their day, but when it feels like the whole world, everything Erik has ever needed, is already within reach then it is hard to seek to venture elsewhere.

Erik lies with Charles for a further few blissful moments, stroking his fingertips gently up and down Charles’ back, listening to the soft rush of air that coasts across his chest every time Charles breathes in and out. Charles has fallen back to sleep very easily, seemingly never more content than when he is close to Erik, and it’s even harder for Erik to want to wake Charles for a second time given he is so relaxed.

Regardless, Erik does it. He rolls Charles onto his back, ignoring the way Charles mumbles in sleepy confusion and furrows his brow. He looks so sweet and sleep-rumpled that Erik can’t help but kiss him- leaning down to press his lips to Charles’ forehead and feeling Charles’ brow instantly relax in recognition, and Erik only realises it’s a bad idea when Charles winds his arms firmly around Erik’s shoulders and tilts his mouth up to find Erik’s; when Erik parts his lips to say no and Charles’ tongue slides in and his heart says yes instead.

 

That morning, they are late to the rugby game.

But, as Erik walks across the grass to join the other players- following Charles who hurries slightly ahead- he finds that he doesn’t mind this particular show of poor timekeeping.

As they reach the rest of the group Charles immediately launches into sincere apologies, telling those present that he overslept, that his alarm didn’t go off, and other such excuses. It’s amusing to see Charles so flustered and remorseful, particularly when Erik knows that Charles could just use his telepathy to just convince everyone that they weren’t late at all, but such restraint speaks volumes as to the strength of Charles’ character, and to the pure nature of his heart.

As Erik watches Charles, his eyes trail over the pink tinge of Charles’ cheeks illuminated by pale sunlight. It reminds Erik of the low flush that colours Charles’ chest just below his throat, the warm expanse of soft skin that Erik presses his mouth to as they make love. Charles’ eyes are bright and wide and sincere as he talks to the other rugby players, and Erik remembers how Charles’ eyes looked that morning- bold and blue and gazing devotedly at Erik, eyelids fluttering with each of Erik’s slow, languid thrusts. One of the people Charles is talking to tells Charles not to worry about being late, and pats Charles companionably on the upper arm. Erik thinks about his own hands sliding over Charles’ body minutes earlier, gripping Charles’ waist to assist as Charles shifts on top, grasping Charles’ lush arse as Charles rolls his hips and his cock bumps wetly against Erik’s stomach, before taking hold of Charles’ member and starting to stroke firmly. Charles laughs, and the sound reverberates through Erik’s heart as he recalls hearing the same sound in bed after they both came, as Charles lies pressed flush against Erik’s body, smiling like there is nowhere in the world he would rather be, nowhere else he feels he belongs.

Erik is lost for a moment, to memories, to happy recollection, until there is a feeling like a gentle nudge against his mind and he refocuses to find Charles gazing over at him. Charles smiles in adoration, gives Erik a wink that makes it clear that he knows exactly what Erik was thinking about, and Erik offers his own private smile in return before he turns away and takes his place to begin the match.

 

It’s a good game, even if it’s one that Erik loses.

Although it’s not a crushing defeat it’s a defeat nonetheless, but it’s not one that Erik laments as he walks with the rest of the players towards a nearby pub where they are intending to eat lunch. Erik and the teammates on his side had put in a valiant effort, but regardless the opposing team were just too quick, too skilled that day, and emerged victorious.

Erik always plays opposite Charles, for reasons that stopped making sense when they ceased fighting with each other, but Erik finds he plays better that way anyway- perhaps having something to do with the sight of Charles running away with the ball that motivates Erik to run after him, the sight of Charles’ glorious arse ensconced in tight white shorts, the sight of Charles’ face bright and flushed as he flashes Erik a cheeky smile from across the playing field. During such moments, Erik finds it hard not to run after Charles for entirely different reasons, to grasp hold of Charles and pull him close, to press his lips to the mouth of this man who loves him, who makes him feel whole. But though most people at the university now know of Charles’ and Erik’s relationship, Erik is still not at the point where he is comfortable with extravagant displays of affection, and so he keeps his hands and his lips to himself, for the most part.

As they approach the pub Erik finds he has fallen into step with Charles naturally, like his place has always been and will always be by Charles’ side. Charles smiles up at Erik but there is a flash of uncertainty on his face as he hesitates before reaching for Erik’s hand- trailing his fingertips cautiously down Erik’s forearm until they attempt to slide into Erik’s grasp. Erik feels Charles’ fingers interlock with his own, tries to ignore the surge of trepidation that makes his breath hitch in his throat, but regardless finds he can only consent to hold Charles’ hand lightly for a moment before he lets go, and marginally quickens his pace to move ahead.

 

Lunch at the pub is a suitably rowdy affair. For the most part Erik sits quietly, his side pressed up against Charles’ where they sit on the same side of a small booth. Charles is animated and enthusiastic as he talks to his friends, often too busy chatting to remember to eat until Erik nudges him and he scoffs down a few mouthfuls of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, before resuming his conversation.

Although Charles’ attention may be directed elsewhere he always makes sure that Erik knows he is thought of. He turns from time to time to ask Erik questions, to ensure that Erik is involved in the conversation, or sometimes he just lets Erik sit in silence and simply slides his hand under the table to squeeze Erik’s knee supportively. As Erik sits there in quiet contemplation Charles’ hand dips down to graze against his leg once more, and this time Erik grasps it and holds it with his own. For a moment Charles’ words catch short, like he has lost his concentration, but eventually he finds his speech again and re-joins the exchange as Erik trails his fingertips round and round in a circle against Charles’ palm. Erik wants to say sorry, wants to tell Charles that he wishes he could be better, warmer- more like Charles himself is, but such words are weak when falling from a frightened tongue, and Erik finds it’s easier to just offer these little gestures instead, and to hope that they are enough.

 

After lunch Charles and Erik remain in the pub for a couple more hours. By that point the weather has improved considerably- a mild sun rising that dispels the chill in the air and warms the temperature by several degrees. The conditions improve so much that Charles and Erik decide to go sit outside in the beer garden and make the most of the intermittent English sun whilst it lasts. But, as Erik collects the two beers he has purchased for himself and Charles and heads outside, he finds himself stopping short in the doorway- caught somewhere between dark and light.

Outside, Charles is sat at a bench with a pretty brunette, someone Erik has seen around campus numerous times, though he knows little about her other than her name: Moira.

Charles leans close across the surface of the table, smiling brightly as he talks to Moira- a smile that Erik recognises, one that he thought was for reserved for himself only. There is a predictable but no less painful pang of jealousy in Erik’s chest, a feeling that warms him of the danger of loving something that you do not deserve- something sweet and fleeting, and capable of flight. Often, loving Charles feels like keeping a bird caged, and Erik worries what will happen when Charles grows tired of confinement, and longs to be free. Erik cannot bear to consider what such an event would be like, how it would feel to be left with a dark, empty space where his heart was once full of light, but sometimes Erik feels like it’s better to torture himself with such possibilities, like being prepared will help him to cope somehow.

Still, to see something that Erik has feared for so long for himself, to read it in the upturn of Charles’ mouth and in the tactile touch of his hand on Moira’s arm and in the amenable, light tone of his voice, is akin to being punched in the stomach. Erik feels winded, like the air in his lungs has been stolen, like the world he has formulated in his mind without Charles is one devoid of life, and though there is a small part of Erik that tells him he is being hasty and ridiculous, that’s not the voice that speaks the loudest.

For a while Erik lingers in the doorway of the pub, looking out at where Charles sits in the sunlight. Behind Erik the room is dim and quiet, outside it is warm and bright. Erik feels like the two spaces are two separate worlds, and knows which one he belongs to, the only question is whether it would be kinder to let Charles stay where he is, rather than to pull him into the dark or to force darkness upon him.

But before Erik can make a move Charles looks up- his smile widening as he focuses on where Erik is standing. He gestures for Erik to come closer and motions for Moira to shift over so that Erik can sit down, which she does easily, but even that act isn’t enough to fully reassure Erik of his standing in the situation. And so, before Erik heads over, he does something- something he knows Charles will not like.

For the entire time in which Erik has known Charles, he has never asked Charles to stay out of his head. Erik has always operated under the assumption that Charles knows everything anyway- that he has since the very first second they both met- and though such realisation has sometimes been troubling, Erik has never shied away from it. However, from time to time, when Erik has been feeling especially low and defensive, he has put barriers up to keep Charles out of his mind. It is a technique that has been taught in schools ever since mutants became publicly recognised, and though Erik realises such methods would likely be ineffectual against a telepath as powerful as Charles, he also knows that Charles will not pry where he knows he is not wanted.

Charles is always sadder when Erik hides away- his upset evident in the minor furrow of his brow when Erik refuses to speak his mind, in the disappointed tone in his voice when Erik withdraws his affection. Sometimes Erik fears he is constantly on the cusp of self-sabotage, like he is always taking one step forward and two steps back, like sometimes he and Charles are not even walking the same path. But, though Charles clearly has times when he is unhappy with Erik’s behaviour, he never calls him on it. Indeed, since the early days after they first met, Charles and Erik do not argue anymore. Any hurt feelings or disagreements are simply swept aside- Erik’s sullen silences cancelled out by Charles’ cheery chatter- and the issue is avoided until it is no longer thought of.

Erik hopes this occasion will be no different as he carefully puts up the walls around his mind and steps closer, walking over to where Charles and Moira are sitting and placing the drinks he bought down on the table in front of them. Charles frowns as Erik sits down, clearly recognising the defences Erik has put in place, but he does not say anything, he simply looks at Erik curiously as Moira leans over to introduce herself.

It’s perhaps another twenty minutes that Erik sits with Charles and Moira, fielding some of Moira’s inquisitive questions about how he knows Charles, before Moira clearly grows weary of one word responses and politely decides to leave. As Moira stands up Charles squeezes her hand and says: “See you later, love”, and Erik feels himself break.

_“I thought I was your love…”_ Erik thinks to himself, but the words reverberate through his mind unheard, like a silent cry for help in a soundproof room.

 

Erik remains mute as he walks with Charles back towards the dormitories, and for once Charles does too. He steals little glances over at Erik as they walk, but whatever Charles is thinking is left unsaid, and Erik cannot remember Charles ever being so quiet in all the time Erik has known him. It’s unsettling, and could likely be resolved by Erik speaking his own mind for once, but Erik finds he lacks the strength to speak, and consents to linger in awkward silence for the rest of the journey.

When they reach the building, Erik experiences a fleeting moment of panic as he realises that himself and Charles have not discussed what they are going to be doing for the rest of the day. More than anything, in spite of his stilted words, Erik wants nothing more than to pull Charles close and hold him tight, and the idea of Charles leaving to spend the rest of the day alone is almost unbearable. But, fortunately, without saying a word Charles starts to take the stairs up to the third floor where Erik’s room is, and Erik finds he can breathe again. He follows Charles up the stairs and along the corridor towards his room, unlocking doors with his powers to let Charles in ahead of himself, and then once they are safe inside Charles turns to look up at Erik- his deep blue eyes sad and confused and solemn.

Still there is nothing said, from either of them, but once again Erik finds words to be unwelcome. Instead he takes a step closer to Charles, and another, and another- slow, like he is waiting for rebuttal. There is none. Charles simply continues to gaze up at Erik, unspoken questions reflected in the disquiet of his expression, until Erik leans close and Charles lets out a soft noise like the echo of a sigh, and closes his eyes as their lips touch.

Within several sincere heartbeats they are in bed- Charles lying back against the mattress with Erik pressing down into him. Erik fumbles with Charles’ clothing, sliding his hands underneath Charles’ shirt and running his palms over smooth expanses of skin as he sucks on Charles’ lower lip, before trailing his mouth across Charles’ jawline. Erik can feel the hard length of Charles’ cock beginning to fill out his trousers, pressing against Erik’s own as Erik rolls his hips forward and groans, rocking against Charles who lies prone beneath him. But it’s in that moment that Erik realises that all is not as it should be...

Normally, Charles is extremely tactile. He runs his hands over Erik like he aches to touch, like he feels the need to map out every centimetre of Erik’s skin so that he can commit it to memory, but not on this occasion. Charles is still and yielding, allowing Erik to kiss him, to touch him, but not really reciprocating. Erik leans back to look at Charles but finds that his eyes are closed. Erik undoes Charles’ zipper with a flick of his fingers and slides his hand inside to grasp Charles’ member, but finds that Charles turns his face away. Erik rubs his thumb over the head of Charles’ cock, smearing through pre-come and making Charles’ member twitch in his grasp, but other than a flicker in Charles’ expression and a redacted moan he is motionless.

Erik hates it.

“Charles, what are you doing?” Erik asks, removing his hand from Charles’ underwear.

At that, Charles’ eyes flutter open, and he looks up to regard Erik leaning over him, knees placed between Charles’ spread legs and hands flat against the mattress either side of Charles’ torso.

“What do you mean?” Charles frowns.

“I mean, what are you doing? Why are you just lying there? Don’t you want this?”

“Erik, I’m happy for you to do whatever you want to do to me”.

“What??” Erik says, appalled. “Charles, I don’t-- I don’t want _that_. I don’t want you to be intimate with me because that’s what you think I want. What about what you want?”

Charles scoffs. “What about it…?” He rolls his eyes and turns his face away from Erik once more, and it’s as surprising as it is upsetting, for Charles never acts this way towards Erik, nor towards anyone that Erik has seen.

“Charles, what’s wrong…?” Erik asks, knowing he is ridiculous for asking, for assuming Charles will speak freely when he himself will not.

Evidently Charles realises as much, and he lets out a mirthless laugh as he looks at Erik. He closes his eyes and moves his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, like he has a headache, and Erik has a sudden urge to press his mouth there instead, to try and smooth the lines of Charles’ furrowed brow with soft kisses. It’s unclear whether such an act would be welcome, so instead Erik sinks back on his heels- still looking down at Charles, and waiting.

After a moment there is a deep sigh, and then Charles removes his hands and scoots back a bit on the bed, until his back is propped up by the pillows and he and Erik are on a more even level. Charles clasps his hands in his lap, over where there is still an evident bulge in his trousers, but he does not attempt to do his zipper back up, he simply stares down for a short while, fractured daylight filtering in through gauzy curtains and illuminating one side of his pensive face. When he speaks, he does so quietly:

“I don’t like having sex with you when you’ve shut your mind off to me. I don’t like not being able to feel you there. It makes it seem like you’re dead”.

With his words, Charles continues to stare down, like he has revealed a guilty secret and he fears what response will follow, but after a moment he looks back up- eyes wide and so vulnerable as he looks at Erik for answers. In turn, Erik is stunned. Outwardly he is quiet, but inside he is reeling, and is desperately trying to remember if he’s ever been intimate with Charles before when his mind was closed off. Erik knows he has been, he knows, and the thought makes him feel sick.

“Charles… You never told me... I-- I don’t understand why you would let that happen if that’s the way you feel?”

Charles shakes his head with the advent of another mirthless laugh.

“You don’t understand why? Really? Given our history and the way we started? Look, Erik- I know that it’s sometimes difficult for you to express how you feel, I know that, so if the only time we can connect is through sex then I can deal with that- for the most part. When you shut your mind off to me I hate it, I _hate_ not feeling close to you, but if the way you’re willing to engage with me in those moments is by fucking me then I guess I will take what I can get”.

Even when he is upset Charles is completely reasonable, his motivations and actions are completely understandable, and logically it is hard for Erik to argue with him.

But that doesn’t mean Erik won’t.

“You should have told me, Charles”.

Even as Erik says the words he knows he is being a complete hypocrite, even before Charles huffs out an annoyed sound and shuffles back on the bed to sit completely upright, hastily zipping his trousers back up and fastening them, before crossing his legs. His face is tensed with stress and annoyance, a complete contrast to the easy and warm expression Charles usually wears, and Erik realises then that this argument is going to be unlike any other they have ever had.

“You’re taking the piss, Erik”, Charles says, fixing Erik with an unwavering glare. “How can you possibly expect me to tell you something when you don’t tell me _anything_?”

“Charles, I’m trying…”

“Are you? Are you really? Because it doesn’t seem like it. We’ve been together for almost three months now, closer to six if you include all the time when you were in complete denial, but sometimes it seems like nothing has changed at all. I know this is hard for you, and I’m trying to help you in any way I can, but there’s only so much I can do when you won’t help yourself”.

“Charles, I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know how to be what you need. I’ve given you all I can, so if that’s not enough…”

“Darling…” Charles starts, his voice softening. He reaches a hand forward and gently squeezes Erik’s knee as Erik lulls to the touch. “I don’t think I’m asking you for too much... Just be honest with me. Don’t hide from me”.

“You’re a telepath… You already know everything…”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you get a free pass on telling me things. Aside from you putting up walls to keep me at bay you’re not exactly forthcoming with your feelings, and I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to expect you to communicate. Like today, for example- you’ve been acting distant towards me ever since lunchtime. Do you want to tell me why?”

_“No…”_ Erik thinks sullenly, but he knows he’s being unfair. Charles waits patiently, thumb rubbing Erik’s kneecap in slow circles, face open and kind, like always, until eventually Erik decides to let Charles in. He sighs as he closes down his defences and reaches forward like Charles taught him, nudging against Charles’ mind with his own, and waiting for the familiar feeling of their connection.

It doesn’t happen though.

“No, Erik”, Charles frowns, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t want to just see like that- that’s not fair, you can’t just expect me to pluck whatever information I want from your mind. I want you to tell me”.

“Why? What does it matter how you know, as long as you know?”

“It matters to me. Do you know how isolating it is, how disconnecting it feels to be surrounded by people, but to never be told anything because everyone just thinks ‘Oh well, Charles already knows’? I can live with that from most people, I have done my entire life, but you, darling- I want more from you, I expect more. Please, Erik…”

Erik’s heart aches in that moment to think of what Charles is describing. Charles has always seemed so bright, so happy, Erik would never even have considered the fact that he might feel isolated, that he might be lonely. It makes Erik feel even worse about cutting Charles off from his mind, about not speaking truthfully on more than one occasion, but deep down Erik knows even that information may not be enough to prompt him to speak his mind.

Still, this one little thing that Charles is asking for in this instance- surely Erik can manage that?

“What’s going on with you and Moira?” Erik asks, but it doesn’t take him long to regret the choice of words.

“Moira?” Charles responds, pulling a face. “What do you mean- ‘what’s going on’? Nothing is. Erik, you… You don’t honestly think…?”

Charles’ face crumples, either like he is furious or he is about to cry- Erik isn’t sure- but regardless the expression is devastating. Strangely though, Charles laughs, but it’s like it’s some sort of involuntary response to feeling deeply uncomfortable, and once again there is no humour in it.

“You think I’m cheating on you”, Charles says in realisation.

It’s both true and it isn’t. Erik _fears_ Charles cheating on him, fears Charles leaving him, but he doesn’t necessarily believe that Charles would actually do such a thing. Charles is too sweet, too kind- he literally cannot bear to even kill so much as a spider, much less cause harm to another human being- physically, emotionally, or otherwise. It is extremely unlikely that Charles would ever do anything to intentionally hurt Erik, and even if he was to tire of Erik and decide to leave he would likely do it in the kindest way he could manage. Still, those fears of Erik’s are like shadows that cloud his judgement, and they make his words dark too.

“You were all over her. You kept smiling at her and holding her arm. You called her ‘love’. Of course you’re fucking her- you haven’t even denied it”.

For a moment Charles is quiet, like he is stunned and speechless, and it’s impossible for Erik to read the intent in the expression on his face. Worst of all Charles’ mind is closed off, no longer gently brushing against Erik’s in soft greeting, but veiled and cold and uncompromising. It’s not how being with Charles usually feels, it’s not how being with Charles has _ever_ felt before, and it is so painful for a moment it seems like it is hard for Erik to breathe.

Without another word, Charles stands up. He steps away from the bed and over towards the door, stopping to pick up his shoes and jacket that he discarded earlier but not attempting to put them on, just holding them in one hand. Charles’ movements are rigid and forced, like he is made of glass, like one wrong move could break him. Erik can only watch in confusion and concern, rocked by Charles quiet demeanour when normally he is never short of words, and feeling his heart clench in frantic horror at the sight of Charles turned away from him, like he fears this is forever and Charles will never turn back to look at him again.

“You bastard…” Charles mutters under his breath.

And within twenty seconds, he is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

After their argument, Erik does not see Charles for three whole days.

At first Erik assumes that the separation is fleeting, that- though this is undoubtedly the worst argument they have ever had- in the end Charles will return to Erik, as he always does. Previously, even when Erik was in the wrong (which happened more often than he’d like to admit) it would always be Charles who made the first move, who attempted to smooth over their differences with pleasant words that never actually addressed the issues between them. This time though, there is no sign of Charles, and Erik’s heart aches with desperate longing in the absence of his affection.

Each time Erik leaves his dorm room to attend his classes or to go for a run or to see friends he looks for Charles, expecting to feel the metal of Charles’ watch that Erik has subtly engraved with his powers, hoping to see the comforting sight of Charles’ face or to hear the soothing sound of his voice. But there is nothing, and Erik can’t help but feel like Charles is avoiding him. If it is true, Erik cannot blame him.

Once or twice, Erik considers going down to Charles’ room to see him, or perhaps lingering outside one of Charles’ classes so that they just happen to bump into each other, but he never does. Erik’s current situation is almost a self-fulfilling prophecy, a manifestation of the fears Erik has felt, the fears he has founded. It seems like their separation was in some ways inevitable- an outcome foreshadowed in the storm of Erik’s gloomy thoughts, present since the day they met, since the day Erik allowed himself to put his hands on Charles, allowed himself to kiss him, to fuck him, to love him. But it is too late now for regret, or even for reparation. This is the bed Erik has made, and now he must lie in it.

Of course, when Erik does lie in bed, he does not sleep easily. Two floors below himself Charles is there, though Erik can’t feel him like he used to, and he wonders if Charles has perhaps disposed of his watch as another means of avoiding Erik. Denied the familiar comfort of the metal Charles usually wears, Erik holds onto him in another way. Charles has spent so much time in Erik’s dorm room they are practically cohabiting, meaning that the space is littered with items that belong to Charles. Most are of little interest- mainly composed of books and notes and various pens that Charles has chewed all the ends of- but there are other things too, things like clothing.

Erik knows he is ridiculous, knows he would be horribly embarrassed were anyone to see him, curled up in bed and clutching one of Charles’ t-shirts in his arms. The garment still smells of Charles. In fact, the whole bed smells of Charles. When Erik sleeps he presses his face into the pillow, holds the t-shirt to his chest, and yearns for that which he cannot have, that which he lacks the words to ask for. Most nights it takes a long time for Erik to fall asleep, hours that stretch in front of Erik like a chasm of time in which he is cold and alone, and his attempts to rest are not helped at all by the dampness of the pillow beneath his cheek.

When Erik does sleep he dreams of Charles, and wakes restless and unfulfilled.

 

On Wednesday, the last flame of hope that Erik possesses when it comes to his relationship with Charles is extinguished.

For the past several weeks Erik has spent each Wednesday afternoon with Charles, accompanying him to a school across the city where Charles sits with a small group of young mutants and talks to them about their powers. At first Erik used to just stand and watch Charles work, his heart soaring with pride at the sight of Charles helping others like he was born to do, but over time Erik has found himself wanting to engage, until he now considers himself as more of a co-helper with Charles, rather than just an observer. Some of the children come to Erik, seek him out instead of Charles, and though Erik sometimes wonders what he could possibly have to offer these young mutants, he spends time with them nonetheless, and never tires of the loving way Charles looks at him.

It’s that recollection which makes Erik assume that Charles will of course come for him, that there will be a knock at his door and it will be Charles waiting for Erik to join him on the journey into the city. But there is no knock, no sound at all, and Erik watches from his window as Charles leaves the dormitory and heads across campus- the first sighting of him in three days. Charles’ hair must have been cut as it is shorter now- a slightly less unruly mop of brown that Erik yearns to run his fingers through, to grasp as he pulls Charles close to kiss him. He wonders how that hair will feel against his skin when he holds Charles, whether it will still tickle the underside of his chin when Charles wraps his arms around Erik and presses his face into Erik’s neck. Most of all, Erik wonders if these thoughts will ever be founded, if he will ever be that close to Charles again.

As Charles starts to walk away from the dormitory at first Erik is buoyed to realise he can feel Charles’ watch again, but any hopefulness is soon crushed as Charles doesn’t even look up at Erik’s window as he goes, he merely keeps his head down and his shoulders hunched, and Erik knows then that they are truly over.

 

Erik spends the rest of the afternoon sat at his window, flexing his mutation as he waits for Charles to return. With Charles’ assistance Erik had been working on controlling metallic elements in other forms- specifically in blood- and they have spent many a night together in one of the university labs; Charles making notes as Erik manipulates blood samples to his will. There are no samples in Erik’s room, so instead he focuses on the iron in his own veins- just concentrating enough so that he can feel each blood vessel as it surges through his broken heart.

It would be easy to stop the flow, to stem the tide of blood as it pumps so uniformly into the errant organ that provides Erik with life. For a moment Erik wants it, knows how much simpler it would be than living, but he cannot do it, for there is something bothering him that keeps him very much tied to the present…

It is much later in the day now, and Charles is still not home.

Erik knows the neighbourhood in which the school resides can be dangerous, and he has worried more than once about Charles venturing there, even though Charles is an incredibly powerful telepath and he can undoubtedly defend himself. Still, there has been more than one occasion when they have been on the train travelling back from the school, and Erik has pulled Charles closer in the wake of a suspicious look from a fellow passenger, glaring at the assumed threat and using his powers to map out the mechanics of the metal that surrounds them in preparation for a fight. Charles always tuts when it happens, says: “Relax, darling”, and uses his telepathy to press a simple kiss into Erik’s mind that somehow both soothes Erik and reassures him of the fact that they are both completely safe.

But on this occasion Charles is alone. Erik cannot bear to think of the eventualities that may have befallen him, all the ways Charles could be hurt or injured, and knows that the only way to reassure himself of Charles’ safety is to see it for himself.

As first Erik simply walks the route he knows Charles takes from the train station, trying to tell himself that everything is fine, that Charles is going to appear any minute completely safe and well. But as Erik nears the station there is still no sign of him, and Erik cannot quell the growing panic that rises in his chest, like dark, briny waters that seek to drown him. When Erik arrives at the station he heads towards the platform where Charles would normally arrive, scanning faces for the one he loves, but he realises with dismay that there are screens announcing delays- some problem on the line that has caused several trains to be cancelled. Erik curses under his breath as he looks up at the flickering yellow letters that advertise the news, and aches to know the answer to the question that plagues him incessantly.

Where the fuck is Charles?

 

Twenty minutes later Erik is in his car, speeding through the streets as he heads across the city. The sky is dark and gloomy, not caused by the lateness of the hour but by the ominous storm clouds that have amassed overhead, threatening rain. The start of it occurs just as Erik nears the other train station- fat blobs of rainwater spattering his windshield as he rounds another corner and speeds to his destination. Erik reaches out with his powers as he drives, hoping desperately to feel the metal of Charles’ watch once more, but finding it worryingly lacking.

Erik’s parking is sloppy at best as he squeals to the curb and jumps out of the car, flicking an absent hand to lock the vehicle as he pushes through the doors into the station and hurries along towards the platform where Charles should be waiting for a train. He _should_ be there, but as Erik stands at the edge of the platform and looks along the sea of glum faces, there is no comfortingly familiar sight, no warmth, no Charles at all. It’s in that moment that the panic rises further, threatens to engulf Erik in its wake, suffocate his senses until he is numb and cold. But Erik cannot give up- he realises in that moment that he will never give up on Charles- and so he turns and runs back to his car.

If Charles is not at the station then he must still be at the school, Erik tells himself as drives frantically once more across the city. The school is only a ten minute drive away, but as it turns out it doesn’t even take that long before Erik is forced to change direction.

Erik is driving past a row of darkened shop windows when he feels it. The sensation is faint and fleeting, but Erik senses it, seizes hold of it, allows it to warm his heart for a second. It’s Charles’ watch. Erik would recognise it anywhere, and it appears to be only a few streets away.

Of course, any comforting hope is quickly quashed as Erik nears the location of the watch, as he pulls up to the curb and looks out to see a doctor’s office. Outside the car rain is starting to steadily cascade down, a dense shower that has people running like ants scattering for shelter, but Erik cares little for the weather. As he climbs out of the car and looks up at the building he feels like he is twelve years old again, standing outside a hospital- a building that has taken everything from Erik. The younger Erik stands there as the rain comes down, arm in a cast, bruises on his face, heart aching for the lives he has lost, for the mother and father he will not see again. Beside Erik a man approaches, grasps Erik’s hand- his broken hand- and squeezes. Erik cries out, cries for so many things, but a voice tells him that strong mutants do not cry, and the words are ones that stay with him forever.

When Erik returns to reality he is still staring at the doctor’s office, the echoes of memory ghosting around his thoughts, telling him that this was inevitable, that nothing good lasts for long. But just as Erik is due to be lost to despair his focus shifts, reforms, becomes centred, and he realises that the metal of Charles’ watch is actually coming from the adjoining building.

Now, though the fear remains, it is slowly replaced with another feeling- confusion. Erik walks over to the front of the next building, yanks open the door with his powers and steps inside, and then all panic, worry, everything is pushed aside in the wake of deep relief and pure love at the sight of him: Charles.

In three strides Erik crosses the small waiting room, seizes Charles by grasping two handfuls of his coat, yanks Charles around to face himself, and pulls him close. He mashes his face into Charles’ shoulder, inhales the scent of him as Charles lets out a startled yelp in response, squeezing Charles bruisingly and just thinking: _“He’s safe, Mein Geliebter, thank God, thank God…”_ Charles’ hands come up to rest uncertainly on Erik’s waist as Erik presses his face into the warm skin of Charles’ neck, as Erik considers running his hands all over Charles’ body to check that he is unharmed, but outside the little bubble of safety that Erik has found there is a loud, pointed cough, and Erik knows he is making a scene.

Erik withdraws from Charles but keeps hold of his arms, looking down at him and just experiencing a flurry of feelings ranging from regret to relief to sorrow to elation to despair to love. He wants to tell Charles he is so happy he’s okay, that he’s sorry they ever argued, that he will never say or do anything stupid ever again, but when Erik opens his mouth what comes out instead is: “Where the fuck were you?”

Charles blinks, looking up at Erik in surprise and confusion as Erik continues to hold Charles with a vice-like grip on his arms. There is a long pause, and then Charles seems to order his thoughts enough to respond.

“Um, I wasn’t aware that you were expecting me, or that we had any sort of plans…”

“You didn’t come home”, Erik replies. “I saw you leave to go to the school and you didn’t come home and I thought, I thought--”

Erik trails off, words failing in the wake of the desperate sob that threatens to leave his lips, the one he pushes down so that Charles won’t hear it. He withdraws his hands from Charles’ arms and crosses them defensively across his own chest, looking away from Charles’ questioning blue eyes and glancing briefly around the room. Just looking at the scene around them- at food, at medicine, at pictures of cats and dogs and rabbits- only exacerbates Erik’s confusion at just what Charles is doing further, something that Charles must clearly pick up on, as he begins to explain:

“I was walking to the station after I’d finished at the school when I heard something, felt something… Pain... Cruelty... It was three kids, well, youths really- only a few years younger than me. They were playing with a small kitten, torturing it, throwing it between themselves, dangling it by its tail…”

Charles’ expression shifts into one of sadness, of hurt, of incredulity, and beneath it all there is anger- righteous anger, granted, but anger nonetheless. It’s not an emotion Erik has read from Charles very often before, but he is smart enough to know that Charles is not someone to be messed with when he is upset.

“What did you do…?” Erik asks slowly.

Charles looks up at Erik, glances around the room briefly to check they aren’t being overheard- most likely uses his telepathy to _ensure_ the next sentence won’t be heard- and then looks back to Erik again.

“Nothing _permanent_. The kids will be fine, they just might have trouble controlling their reflexes for a while, and not punching themselves in the balls every time they hear a cat meow…”

Even though Charles’ actions are justified he still looks somewhat abashed, almost guilty at having used his powers to corrupt another person’s mind. In contrast, Erik thinks it’s brilliant. He gazes at Charles, pride warming the place in his heart that is reserved for him alone, and smiles- the expression wide and giddy and probably quite ridiculous given the way Charles is looking at him.

“It’s not funny…” Charles says through the smile that is starting to corrupt his mouth. That, of course, only makes Erik’s grin wider, until the point when he starts to laugh- the sound loud and joyous and joined by Charles’ own laughter, until they are shushed by the receptionist from across the room.

“What happened to the cat?” Erik asks when he has managed to control his levity.

“Oh, it’s in with the vet now. The poor little thing was so terribly shaken- I could _feel_ it, Erik- how scared it was, how frightened… I’m just waiting to see what the vet says. Hopefully it will be okay…”

Charles pauses, looking at Erik in consideration before he adds: “You don’t have to stay, you know. It might take a while for the vet to be done, so you might as well go home. I’ll just get the train back later”.

“You can’t- there’s delays, and most of the trains have been cancelled”.

“Oh…”

“I’ll wait with you”, Erik says. “I have my car with me, so I’ll stay until you’re ready to leave”.

“Erik, you don’t have to do that, I can get a taxi or I can wait for the trains to st--”

“No. I’ll wait with you”, Erik says firmly. Charles opens his mouth once more like he is ready to offer further countenance, but whatever objections he has are quickly shelved and he simply nods quietly, before gesturing over to a small seating area where they can wait together.

 

The corner in which Erik sits with Charles is thankfully somewhat cut off from the rest of the room, providing them with privacy. Well, more or less… Across the room an elderly couple sit with a large dog, a dog that keeps _staring_ at Erik. Erik stares back, and eventually screws up his face to scowl at the dog, but it makes no impact other than to make Charles laugh for a second.

Erik turns his attention back to Charles, finding him to be sitting in the chair adjacent to himself, his body language stiff and uncomfortable, and very unusual for Charles. He drums his fingers against the plastic edge of the chair he’s sitting on, causing a continuous tapping noise that grates on Erik. He wants to reach over and take Charles’ hand, to stop the noise if nothing else, but though Charles is sitting just across from Erik it feels like he is miles away, and Erik cannot bear to reach for what he might not grasp.

Instead Erik simply watches Charles, and yearns, and knows he should say something- anything- to dispel the tension, but he doesn’t want to risk making things worse. He wishes there was a magic solution, some secret way of fixing what he has broken, of making Charles look at him again, love him again. But every solution Erik comes up with is unwelcome, every vulnerability unwanted, and the idea of speaking first in the cold, quiet room is unbearable.

But, as Erik sits there, he thinks of the last time he was in a stark white room such as this, how it felt to lose everything he loved. Such memories are caustic and cruel- cutting into Erik’s heart like a knife, and causing pain to bleed out. Erik does not want to go through that again, cannot, but in some ways he is already there, and perhaps the only way to stop history repeating itself is to make a change.

“I’m sorry”.

Charles looks over at Erik’s words, mouth opening in an unspoken question. Erik hopes that Charles recognises the significance of what he’s just done, that it means something somehow, but it is hard to know how what Charles is thinking when he is keeping his telepathy veiled. Erik hates the feeling. He misses the fond, familiar sense of Charles’ mind companionably brushing against his own, the feeling very much like the golden thread of a permanent kiss. He hopes for a moment that his declaration will be enough, that he will soon feel the bright light of Charles’ presence once more, but in the long pause after Erik has finished speaking there is nothing but quiet contemplation, until Charles finally responds.

“Thank you… But I’d like to know exactly what it is you’re apologising for”.

Erik should have known that this wasn’t going to be easy…

He draws in a deep breath, looking away from Charles’ neutral expression and down at his own hands twisting in his lap before he replies:

“I’m sorry for… what I said. For accusing you of being unfaithful”.

“So, you don’t think I’m sleeping with Moira?”

“…No”.

“You don’t sound very sure, Erik”.

Erik swears under his breath. Charles always was very perceptive…

“I’m… I’m afraid that you’re sleeping with Moira. It doesn’t mean that I think you are, just that I fear it. I’m not saying it’s a rational fear, I’m not saying you’ve done anything to deserve me accusing you of this, but it’s essentially one of the worst things I can imagine happening so of course I can’t help but think about it”.

“But why, Erik? Why would you think that? Can’t you just believe in me? In us?”

“I do…” Erik responds, looking up to meet Charles’ eyes at last. Charles looks forlorn- his expression soft and full of feeling as he leans forward in his chair, like he is subconsciously trying to get closer to Erik. “At least, I believe in you, Charles, just not in me”.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks gently.

“I mean, I trust you, but I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust that I won’t fuck this up. I don’t trust that I won’t do something stupid to make you leave me. _Mein Gott_ , I’ve given you enough reason to…”

And it’s true. From the second they met Erik feels like he has done nothing but take from Charles, that he gives nothing because he _has_ nothing to offer. Charles will disagree, of course. He has told Erik more than once how much he is valued, and needed, and appreciated, but the words never sink in, they slide off Erik’s skin like rainwater, like he is proofed against kindness and sentiment.

“I don’t blame you for ending this”, Erik says finally, almost like he is giving Charles permission to withdraw, like he has surrendered, at last.

Looking at Charles is painful, even though he isn’t saying anything, and it isn’t long before Erik drops his gaze once again. He focuses on his hands, remembers Charles pressing his own against Erik’s to compare their size, remembers Charles’ lips gently brushing against his fingertips, remembers Charles’ face pressed into his palm like a perfect fit. Within a second Erik’s hands starts to tremble, a fight-or-flight response to losing something very special, but before Erik can decide which of those impulses he wants to opt for he is interrupted by Charles’ words.

“I don’t like coffee”.

“What?” Erik asks, looking up.

“I don’t like coffee”, Charles says, calm and quiet. “At all. But you do, and you love that little café off-campus, the one that serves about a hundred ghastly flavours of coffee but no tea at all. I _hate_ coffee, but I go there for you. I drink it for you”.

“Charles, what--?”

“I don’t like James Bond films either, but you do. And you let me lie with my head on your chest and you play with my hair as we watch them, so I watch them. For you. The same goes for all those war documentaries that you enjoy so much. And the music that you put on in your car. All these things, Erik- they’re all such little things, but when you add them up it’s a lot. And I do it all for you”.

“Charles, I don’t know what you’re saying…”

Charles sighs, running a hand back through his hair before looking back at Erik once more.

“I’m saying that I love you, you big idiot. That I’m willing to do all these things _because_ I love you. And that I have no intention of giving up on you, no matter how difficult you can be. All I ask is a little something in return, a little affection, a little reassurance that you want this as much as I do. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, given all I do for you”.

In the wake of Charles’ words Erik stares, stunned, reeling from the implications. It is more than Charles has ever revealed before and Erik realises in that moment just how little he and Charles actually disclose to each other, how much is kept hidden within the walls of their own hearts. Erik knows this is likely due to his own bad habit, his own reluctance to speak his mind freely, he just wasn’t aware quite how much Charles was holding back too, but also knows that it- whatever Charles has been concealing- he has been doing it for Erik’s benefit.

It’s clear that Erik should probably say thank you, that he should be grateful- and he is. But there is a bigger part of him that practises self-preservation, that does not want to be blamed for all the faults in their relationship, that blindly misses the point- like always…

“I never asked you to do any of those things”, Erik says, stupidly.

Erik is close enough to Charles to see the effect the words have on his face. Charles’ mouth clamps shut and his eyes grow darker somehow, and then he is leaning back in his chair, away from Erik, and looking at Erik disapprovingly- like he does at his students when they misbehave. Erik feels very much like an insolent child, or more accurately a broken man whose clumsy tongue cannot express how he feels within his heart, and he realises how much he needs someone like Charles- someone to guide and help him, to make him into a better person. But it seems like that privilege is lost, that whatever fragile hold Erik had on the situation has slipped, and that Erik is on his own once more.

Without another word Charles stands up and turns away from Erik, leaving the secluded corner where they sit and crossing the room towards the reception. When he reaches the desk he places both hands on it, as if for balance, and tells the receptionist: “Please take down my number, and call to let me know about the cat”. The woman behind the desk stares up at Charles as her hands move, seemingly of their own accord, and she writes down a string of numbers onto a nearby notepad, which Charles watches before he gives a small nod and her head dips forward briefly, like someone verging on the edge of unconsciousness who has just roused. Erik, too, feels like he is sleeping, like he is dreaming, like he is comatose and he cannot move. To begin with he wonders if this is something Charles has done, if Charles has frozen him in place with his telepathy, but as Erik’s heart thumps erratically in his chest and his hands shake he realises that he has the control, that Charles has never taken it from him, and that his inability to move is caused by nothing but his own paralysing fear.

That same fear keeps Erik in place as Charles turns away from the reception and walks unhurriedly towards the front door, his head bowed and his face grim and determined. He does not look at Erik, does not comment, and the only noise in the room at all is from the dog that watches Charles and whines pathetically as he passes.

As Charles opens the front door there is a sudden swell of noise- the sound of rain steadily coursing down that was previously muffled by the glass doors- and before Erik can find the words to say anything Charles steps out into it, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks away, into the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

The last time Erik was in a waiting room like this he felt like his world was ending, like his whole existence was little more than stitched fabric, and that someone had just pulled him apart at the seams- tearing him to pieces.

This time, the sensation is similar.

For a while after Charles leaves Erik just sits there, listening to the quiet murmurs of conversation across the room, the dull rush of rain falling down outside, the frantic beating of his own heart within his chest. Erik can _feel_ his own blood, the iron inside coursing through his veins, surging through his body and reminding himself of the fact that he is very much alive, even though he feels cold and numb. He knows he should move, knows he cannot just sit in the waiting room forever in the hope that time will remain frozen around him, but he cannot think to take a step.

What to do now? How to fix what Erik has broken? In some ways it seems so simple- Erik just needs to go after Charles, apologise again, beg for forgiveness and hope that Charles is willing to give him another chance. It _seems_ so simple, but it isn’t. It takes a lot to give your heart to someone and hope that they will keep it safe, that they will not break it, that they will not give it away. Charles has not given Erik any reason to doubt him, but still Erik feels what damage Charles can do with gentle hands. The only question is, just what is worse- living in fear of losing Charles, or not having him at all?

 

As soon as Erik leaves the vets’ office the feeling of panic that has been steadily rising within him intensifies, matching the rain pouring down all around him in its ferocity. Erik scans the scene in both directions for signs of Charles, finding nothing but darkened streets clear of pedestrians, with the occasional passing car making waves through the murky water that has amassed on the ground. Erik worries briefly that he will not find Charles, but he only has to concentrate and focus on the familiar cool steel of Charles’ watch, and he knows which way to go.

It doesn’t take long for Erik to catch up to Charles. When Erik sees him, Charles is walking briskly along the pavement, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his pockets as he advances through the streaming rain, his hair plastered to his head and his clothing soaked through. Erik pulls up alongside Charles in his car and lowers the window, a little dismayed at the fact that Charles hasn’t immediately recognised Erik’s presence and come over, and the feeling gets worse when Erik sounds his horn and Charles continues walking, and Erik realises it’s an intentional act rather than the case that Charles just hasn’t seen him.

“Charles!” Erik calls, keeping the car level with him. “Charles, come on- get in the car”.

“Go away, Erik…” Charles replies, still keeping his eyes focused strictly on the floor.

“Charles, please- let me take you home, you can’t walk back to campus in this weather”.

“I can and I will”.

“ _Verdammt_ , Charles- you’re going to get sick. Please, Liebling- just get in the car”.

With an irritated roll of his eyes Charles finally looks over at Erik, and it’s like the storm around them is reflected in his expression.

“Why, Erik? What would be the point? You want to take me home and then what? Fuck me when you want me and then push me away later? I can’t keep doing this, Erik. I know I said I wouldn’t give up on you and I don’t want to, but sometimes I feel like that’s what _you_ want- that you want us to break apart…”

Charles stops at last, turning towards the car and looking at Erik through lowered eyelashes, his expression grim and set as Erik shifts the car into neutral and puts on the handbrake.

“I would do anything for you, Erik. _Anything_. But it’s getting to a point where I have to put myself first for once. It shouldn’t be this hard… I shouldn’t have to try to convince you to be with me. So, unless you have a reason for me to stay then I’m done. It’s the way it has to be”.

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say, Charles”.

“This isn’t about what I want, Erik. What do you want?”

There’s a pause, and Erik knows the answer that forms deep in his heart: “You”.

In an instant Erik can tell it isn’t enough. Charles’ expression grows fonder but sadder as he sighs and draws a hand back through his hair, smoothing the wet locks back from his forehead.

“Convince me”.

Here the words are harder. Erik leans out of the car window, not caring that his face and the front of his shirt are slowly getting soaked by the rain, only thinking about Charles. And doesn’t Charles know that? Can’t he see?

“Charles, you’re a telepath…” Erik says, somewhat hopefully. “Can’t you see how I feel about you?”

Charles shakes his head. “It’s not the same, Erik. Perhaps the only reason we’ve lasted this long is because I can see what you are loathe to say, but it’s not fair to expect me to have to read your mind all the time just to know how you feel. I need you to tell me”.

Charles takes one tentative step closer to the car. He looks beautiful bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights, and Erik wants nothing more than to step out of the car and go to him- to pull Charles into his arms and wrap Charles up in his coat to keep him safe and warm. But such closeness risks vulnerability, risks tearing down the walls that Erik has placed around his heart, and though Erik knows he loves Charles, he doesn’t know if he loves him enough to change.

“Tell me, Erik”.

The words are there, lingering on the tip of Erik’s tongue, afraid to take the leap. The seconds before Erik stretch like chasms of time where everything is slowed down, everything is blunter, everything aches. Erik can see every flicker of decision in Charles’ face as he sighs once more, looks down, seems smaller somehow- more vulnerable. Then he nods once to himself, like he is trying to accept something, and he says simply: “Okay then”.

With those words Charles moves again, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away down the street.

“Charles, don’t leave!” Erik calls, the request coming out in absence of thought.

Though Charles is further away now and his voice is muffled Erik hears his reply anyway: “Tell me why, Erik…”

“ _Mein Gott_ , because I fucking love you!”

Those words, too, are ones that advance unbidden, surging from the place deep within Erik’s heart where he is soft and warm. It is only the second time Erik has said as much to Charles, and the first time in English, and clearly Charles recognises the significance of the declaration as he stops in an instant.

Without any response Charles turns and hurries back over to the car, opening the door and climbing inside as Erik slides back over to the driver’s seat and sits in silence. Erik watches mutely as Charles simply sits there and stares straight ahead, his eyes oddly glazed like he is not really present, like his mind is elsewhere.

Horribly, Erik feels like he has just given something away that he can never get back. He feels like he is drowning, like the rainwater streaming down the car window is filling his lungs and choking him, making it hard for him to breathe. He both wants and fears Charles saying something, anything, but instead of words there is something sweeter- the feeling of Charles slowly opening up again, of him using his telepathy to gently nudge against Erik’s mind in greeting. It’s not the soft kiss of an embrace that Erik usually receives, more just a companionable feeling- a comforting presence that says simply: _“It’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe…”_

Erik isn’t sure if it’s the result of direct influence or if he is just soothed by Charles’ presence, but either way he feels himself relax, feels the air leave his lungs in a steady sigh, feels the blood surging through his veins grow less frantic. Charles is still completely mute, staring straight ahead, but gradually Erik turns away from him and shifts the car into gear, before commencing the drive back to campus.

 

When they arrive, Charles is still quiet. The rain has lessened now to nothing more than a gentle pitter-patter against the car roof with each intermittent drop, and Erik can see the sky is clearing- that the grey clouds are drawing back at last. But his hands on the steering wheel are shaking, a tremor that betrays the turmoil he feels within, consumed by a low buzz of panic because Charles still hasn’t fucking _said anything_ …

“What are you afraid of, Erik?”

Erik turns to face Charles, seeing that he is still staring straight ahead out of the window. It feels oddly like Erik is communicating with a mannequin of sorts- something that looks real but that lacks in emotion. Worryingly, Erik wonders if this is how Charles has felt trying to communicate with himself all these months…

“I’m afraid that I’m going to lose you”.

“Why?”

“…Because everyone I’ve loved I’ve lost”.

There is a shift in Charles’ expression, a kind of shattering, and then he turns to look at Erik at last- his eyes a deep blue like the waters Erik feels himself drowning in.

“I’ve never loved _anyone_ until you…” Charles says softly.

At first Erik doubts it, thinks that there’s no way that this beautiful, intelligent, wonderful man has gone through his whole life unloved, unappreciated. But then Erik remembers the conversation he once had with Charles about his parents- about how his father died when he was very young, how his mother was neglectful, how he had a step-father who manipulated him and a step-brother who bullied him. It’s true what Charles is saying, painfully true, but at the same time it makes the connection Erik feels with Charles run deeper, like they belong together, like they were made for each other, like it’s such a miracle that they have found each other at last.

“Liebling…” Erik murmurs, the tremor in his voice matching the one in his hands. With those same shaking hands Erik reaches for Charles, pressing his palm against the side of Charles’ face as Charles whimpers and turns into it, his eyes closing and his lips brushing just slightly against Erik’s skin. Within his chest Erik can feel his heart aching, and wonders how it is able to yearn for Charles after so many years of disuse, after it has been so cold for so long that Erik didn’t think it even worked anymore.

As Charles remains motionless and with his eyes closed Erik edges closer in the car, rubbing his thumb gently against Charles’ lower lip, along the area where he hopes to press his mouth to once more. But as Erik draws nearer Charles’ eyes snap open, and he reaches up to seize Erik’s hand- removing it from his face but still holding on to it lightly.

“Erik, I… I need some time, okay?” Charles says softly, tracing his thumb against Erik’s palm. “I need time to think about things, to process everything. Is that okay?”

Immediately Erik wants to say no, wants to tell Charles that his absence over the last few days has already been more than Erik can bear, wants to be selfish and consider his own needs above all others. But Erik can tell from looking into Charles’ eyes that this is what _he_ needs, and also knows that, if Erik is to have any chance at keeping Charles, he might have to let him go first.

“Okay…” Erik says quietly, choking down the lump that arises in his throat. “If that’s what you want”.

Charles looks almost surprised in response, but he smiles and nods once- giving Erik’s hand a fond squeeze before he lets go. Without another word Charles turns and opens the car door, and then he steps out into the gentle shower of rain, and pushes the door closed before walking away.

 

Erik remains sat in the car for longer than is necessary after that. By the time he has assured himself of the fact that his legs are steady enough to walk on the rain has stopped, but the dark clouds overhead are still present- a hazy smog that obscures the rays of the setting sun. There is no one around as Erik walks over to the dormitory and steps inside, and he is grateful for the fact that all the people who live on the same floor as him seem to be elsewhere, as there isn’t anyone for Erik to face as he heads to his room.

Once Erik is safely inside for a while it’s like he doesn’t know what to do. He stands there in his damp clothes, looking across the room at his bed- at the empty space where Charles should be, but instead there is only one of Charles’ t-shirts, scrunched up beside the pillows. It feels like a poor substitute for Charles, lacking in the comfort that Erik knows Charles can provide, so instead of drawing it close to himself for once Erik carefully folds the garment and places it neatly on his desk. Then, for the next several minutes, Erik spends time gathering the items Charles has left behind and organising them uniformly into one place. If Charles wants to leave then Erik will not make it hard for him, will not make Charles’ life more difficult, even if it feels like his own life is over in turn.

As Erik slowly tidies Charles’ things away he keeps track of Charles’ movements two floors below himself. Erik can feel Charles’ watch now more than ever, like the scope of Erik’s power has intensified in the wake of his loss, like Charles has enabled Erik’s ability to grow stronger once more, as he has done so much over the time in which Erik has known him. Erik senses Charles changing his clothes- soft fabrics sliding against the metal of the watch as Charles slips them on. Erik senses Charles sitting at his desk- the watch brushing against smooth paper as Charles turns the pages of his books, flowing through soft hair as Charles runs his hand through it. Later, Erik senses Charles getting into bed- metal drawing across thin cotton bedsheets as Charles slips beneath the covers, as he fidgets as he always has a tendency to do before he goes to sleep. Eventually Charles’ movements grow still. Erik can still feel the watch, the low pulse of Charles’ heartbeat against the metal, but he only allows himself to hold on for a few moments longer before he lets go, for good.

That night, Erik formulates a plan, a plan that does not involve Charles- for once. Already Erik knows that losing Charles will destroy him, make him feel empty and weak, but he cannot bear the idea of being a burden to Charles, and knows he will need to do what he can to pretend that everything is fine, so that Charles can move on with his life like he deserves.

The past few days have been spent doing little more than moping, but that night Erik messages the members of the Brotherhood, his friends, and suggests arranging some social events over the next few weeks. He contacts his lecturers to ask if he can meet with them to discuss his progress, and to check if there is anything else he needs to do to prepare for his final exams. Finally, he emails the school where Charles helps out, where Erik has also assisted over the previous few weeks, and asks if he can come see the children some other time- a different day to Charles. Erik wouldn’t like to assume that he can just show up when Charles does- it wouldn’t be fair- but he has bonded with the young mutants over the time in which he’s known them, probably come to rely on them as much as they do him, and therefore wants to ensure they keep in contact.

When Erik has finished trying to ensure he does not fall to pieces when Charles is gone the sun has finally set, and the night is dark and still. Erik opens his window so he can listen to the last remnants of the rainstorm as he falls asleep, and then strips off his clothes and climbs into bed. It is tempting, for a moment, to reach out to Charles for one last time, to brush against the metal that encircles Charles’ wrist in a final embrace, to remember how Charles’ skin feels- the pattern of his heartbeat as it pumps blood through his veins. But such acts would only be delaying the inevitable, and though it’s something Erik wants desperately, he keeps his mutation carefully restrained, closes his eyes, and attempts to sleep.

 

Erik awakes just before the dawn. At first he isn’t sure what rouses him- he has never been a very good sleeper, and he always stirs at the slightest sounds. Over time some sounds have become customary and familiar- the low chuckle of Charles laughing in his sleep, the rustle of the bedsheets as Charles shifts on the mattress, the soft sigh from Charles’ lips as he presses his face into the back of Erik’s neck and whispers “I love you” in sleepy tones. This noise, however, is different. It takes a few seconds for Erik to process it, but when he does he realises it’s the sound of a knock at his door.

Slowly Erik sits up in bed- moving so that his back is propped up by the pillows and gesturing forward with one trembling hand to focus on the door, and to unlock it. When he does so the door opens and Charles walks in, and for a moment Erik cannot be sure if he is dreaming or not.

Charles doesn’t look at Erik as he enters the room, as he closes the door behind himself and walks over to the bed- taking a seat on the edge of it facing the opposite wall. Erik can’t breathe- feeling air trapped within his chest, lungs burning, heart pounding because Charles is _here_ , he’s really here and it could mean so many things, but Erik is afraid to speak because at the same time it could mean nothing at all. It seems like an eternity that Erik waits, that Erik simply sits and stares at Charles- aching to touch him but fearing reaching out. But then, just when Erik is wondering if Charles is actually just experiencing a sudden bout of sleepwalking, he lets out a low sigh, and speaks at last.

“If we’re going to do this, then I have some conditions”.

Erik can only assume that ‘this’ means their relationship, means them being together, and so barely a second passes before he replies: “Anything”.

Charles turns to look at Erik, the hint of a smile just present on his lips even though his expression is still determined and somewhat serious. Outside the sun is rising- an amber hue filtering through the windows and warming Charles’ face, making him seem bright and ethereal, making Erik feel like he is an entire world away where he sits in the dark.

“There is really just one condition…” Charles continues. “Every day, I want you to tell me something honest, something truthful. Even if it’s something that you think I already know, even if you’re afraid to say it- I want you to tell me, Erik. Can you do that?”

Charles makes it sound so simple and, in a way, it is. He is not asking Erik for complete vulnerability, he’s not asking for Erik to tear down the walls around his heart, he is merely asking for a gesture, a sign, just one little disclosure a day that lets Charles in. It’s probably kinder than Erik deserves, indeed- everything about Charles is more than Erik deserves, and Erik can’t help but feel so unbelievably grateful that, of all the people out there in the world, he is the one Charles loves.

“Yes. Yes, Charles- anything you want”.

“I’m serious, Erik”, Charles says resolutely. “Please don’t make me regret this”.

“I won’t”, Erik promises, knowing that he means it, hoping that Charles knows too. “I won’t let you down”.

Charles smiles for real then- not one of the bright, beaming grins he usually displays, but a quiet sign of contentment that warms Erik’s heart. Erik is at a slight loss as to what to do next, having decided to leave Charles to dictate what progress they make, but he realises he has something he wants to say that will likely be a good first step towards honouring Charles’ request.

“I’ve missed you…” Erik says softly. “Come here?”

As the sunlight grows in intensity and slowly begins to fill the room with colour Charles’ smile grows wider- the corners of his eyes crinkling as he crawls along the bed towards Erik before he falls into Erik’s arms. Erik holds Charles close as Charles settles down lying between Erik’s legs and with his head resting against Erik’s chest, one of his hands gently rubbing Erik’s side as Erik trails his fingers up and down Charles’ spine over his pyjama top. Erik feels safe at last, feels home, feels like everything he has wanted is in the little space between his arms and against his heart, and makes a promise to himself to never do anything to risk losing Charles ever again.

“You better not…” Charles mumbles, smiling and prodding Erik’s side with one of his fingers, and Erik realises in that moment that he can feel Charles’ mind again- like a sunflower opening up in the light. He turns his face to place kisses to Charles’ forehead, brushing his lips against soft skin as Charles hums happily and tilts his head up, until their mouths meet and Erik wonders how he has gone for so long without kissing Charles, without tasting him, without holding him.

 _“I’ve missed you too…”_ Charles says into Erik’s mind as they exchange slow, sensual kisses that make all of Erik’s nerve endings feel like they are singing. From the way Charles is pressed against Erik’s body and from the fact that he is only wearing thin pyjamas Erik can feel Charles’ cock is slowly hardening, more so as Charles shifts his weight and spreads his legs across Erik’s lap, so that their crotches are pressed together.

It has been days since Erik has been with Charles and he wants him desperately, painfully, but at the same time Erik is- for once- trying to practise restraint, trying not to fulfil his own desires without first thinking about Charles. And so, Erik simply kisses Charles, and holds him, and tries to ignore the way his cock is stiff and aching for attention, made all the more palpable by Charles rolling his hips as they kiss. It’s almost unbearably arousing, and part of Erik thinks he could just get off from this alone, but then Charles leans back and looks at Erik- his face heated and his eyes dark with desire as he requests: “Touch me, darling”.

That is really all the encouragement Erik needs, and he quickly reaches down and slides his hand into Charles’ pyjama bottoms, finding Charles’ cock to be hard and already slick with pre-come. Charles moans as Erik touches him, burying his face in Erik’s neck and reaching down to withdraw Erik’s cock too, wrapping his hand around the length and starting to stroke without finesse, just with desperate need and desire. With one hand still on Charles’ cock Erik uses the other to hastily push Charles’ pyjama bottoms down so that he can seize a handful of Charles’ lush arse, so that he can use his grip to encourage Charles to rock forward once more as he grasps both their members in one hand to hold them together.

“Come on, Liebling…” Erik groans, pressing his mouth to the soft skin just behind Charles’ ear and hitching his breath as Charles heeds instruction and rolls his hips, his cock steadily sliding against Erik’s and making them both moan. It’s a lot less graceful than their usual encounters- just a mess of touches and kisses with both bodies and minds mashed together, all of it feeling so right and so perfect that Erik cannot imagine anything better. When Erik comes he feels Charles climax at the same time as himself, hot flashes of pleasure surging through his mind and body as he holds Charles close and moans his name over and over, as Charles whimpers and cries out Erik’s name too.

In the afterglow they lie there, breathing hard in the room bathed in soft morning light. Erik knows they should get up and clean themselves off, maybe make plans to start the day, but for a while longer Erik wants to stay there, and to savour everything he has.

“ _Ich liebe dich…_ ” Erik whispers against Charles’ forehead, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he says the words.

For a moment there is silence, and panic, and Erik fears ever opening his eyes again. But then there is a soft murmur of contentment, and words given without question:

“I love you too”.


End file.
